She was sure the group of girls had not been there when she entered Athene’s temple.
‘You already know what I can see,’ she said. ‘I see a group of girls, talking and laughing together.’
‘Are they beautiful?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ she replied.
‘Why?’
‘Because they are young and happy and together,’ she said.
She could feel the irritation in the fingers that pressed against her.
‘They are ordinary,’ he said. ‘Look again.’
And she did as he demanded but she could not see what he saw. ‘It’s because you have spent all these years with no one but your sisters for company. If you had grown up with other girls your own age . . .’
‘If I had grown up with other girls my own age, you would have thought me ordinary too.’
‘Not true,’ he said. ‘I would have admired those ringlets and those arching eyebrows. I would have approved of your long, straight nose and the way your wide mouth is ready to smile. I would have desired you in just the same way if you had grown up among all these girls. You would still have been extraordinary.’
‘You’re just guessing,’ she said. ‘You can’t know that, you just think I want to hear it.’ She felt the tension in his muscles as she said it, and she knew she was right. He was so very sure of his own charm. ‘But I don’t.’
‘Very well,’ he replied. ‘Have it your way. You are nothing more than an ordinary girl with ordinary immortal sisters, and everyone is equally beautiful because you say so. Is that right?’
He grabbed her by the shoulder and spun her to face him. She could feel the pillar pressing against her back, and the smell of salt and anger on his face. ‘You value them all so highly, you think caring for the weak is so important. Prove it to me and to yourself.’
She stared at his dark green eyes and loathed him.
‘You can’t prove what you believe,’ she said. ‘You can only believe it.’
‘That is obviously not true,’ he said. ‘You believe you can fly, and I believe it too. We could prove it by taking you to the edge of the cliff and pushing you off it.’
‘Flying isn’t a matter of opinion,’ she said.
‘Nor is beauty.’
‘I don’t agree with you.’
He leaned close and hissed into her mouth. ‘I will take one of those girls, Medusa. Any one, you can choose. I will take her to the deepest part of the ocean and I will have her until she drowns. Do you understand? I will rape her and she will die of it, because that is what it means to be weak.’
‘They will knock down your temple and never worship you again.’
‘Men will worship me across the world.’ He shrugged. ‘These ones hardly matter.’
She saw all his vanity and pettiness, and wondered why mortals worshipped any god like this.
‘Or,’ he said. ‘Look at me.’
She could not bring herself to meet his eyes, but he reached out and took her chin, held her face so she could not look away.
‘Or I will have you. Here, now, in the temple. You’ve made your disdain for the idea quite clear. So let us see how much you love these mortals. How much you value caring for the weak, like your sisters do.’
She stared at him in disgust. ‘If I agree to this, you’ll leave them alone?’
He shrugged. ‘I might.’
‘Then yes,’ she said.
‘They will never repay your affection. Do you understand that?’
She nodded.
‘They will fear you and flee you and call you a monster, just like they do your sisters.’
‘It doesn’t matter what they think of me.’
‘Then why do you want to protect them?’
‘Because I can,’ she said.
Euryale
When Medusa returned to their cave that night, she was quiet and scared and neither of them knew what to say to change it. She stayed inside the cave the following day, and didn’t want to come out. She didn’t want to see the light, she said. Didn’t want to talk, or fish, or swim. She wanted to sit in the darkness as far from the sea as she could get.
‘Come outside,’ Sthenno pleaded.
At first, she replied that she was busy, then that she didn’t want to. Then she stopped replying altogether. Sthenno and Euryale didn’t know what to do. Sthenno was hurt that their girl was avoiding them, worried that she had said or done something wrong. Neither of them knew the labyrinthine caves well enough to find her if she didn’t want to be found. But Euryale was less prone to self-doubt. Unable to imagine what might have provoked their sister to withdraw from them, she behaved as though Medusa were an injured sheep: she kept her distance, left food on a small flat rock just inside the cave entrance. The food was gone the next day, but still there was no sign of Medusa.
On the third day, Sthenno was so distressed that Euryale agreed to go and look for her. She crept into the cave, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. The further she went, the darker it became, and she found herself reaching out a clawed hand so she could follow the cave wall. Beneath her feet she felt the sand thinning and hard rock poking through. She became suddenly worried that she might lose her way altogether, and turned to look back at the way she had come. There was a faint light behind her, she was relieved to see. Though when she turned back to the darkness, it seemed blacker than ever and she had to wait again for her eyes to adapt. She was peering into darkness within darkness, trying to assess whether she was looking at a tunnel which Medusa might be hiding within, or whether it was simply a small recess that led nowhere.
‘Medusa,’ she called. Her girl wouldn’t ignore her now she had come into the caves, she was certain. And she was right.
‘Please leave me alone.’
‘I can’t, my love,’ said Euryale. ‘Sthenno is so worried.’
‘You can tell her not to be.’
‘I can, but it doesn’t help. She needs to see you and talk to you. You know what she’s like.’
‘I know.’
‘Please will you come outside?’ Euryale asked. She had no idea how far she had travelled, but her feet were now walking on solid rock, no trace of sand left.
‘I can’t,’ said Medusa.
‘Why not?’
‘I’m afraid,’ she replied.
No one could see Euryale, as she stood in the blackness. Medusa was further along the path, which twisted and turned, and even with a torch she would have been unable to see her sister because solid rock separated them. Sthenno was outside pacing, fretting on the shore. The rays of Helios could never penetrate this gloom, and the waters of the ocean could not reach it. But in this moment – though no-one could know it – Medusa was proved right. Her sister was indeed beautiful. Her jaw softened, her solid brow creased, her bulbous eyes filled with tears.
‘Afraid, my love? Of what?’
‘Of the sea,’ Medusa said.
‘Of the sea? But you are a child of the sea.’ Euryale was confused. Medusa had always loved the water. One of Euryale’s fondest memories was of the child running into the waves and out again, her wet feet picking up tails of dried seaweed and dragging them along behind her, a watery comet.